Tennessee Dan
by Dixabelle
Summary: Follow Sergeant Daniel Mangan as he finds himself in the hills of East Tennessee after his discharge from the USMC.  Can he find happiness so far from New York?  What is in store for Sleepyside's favorite bad boy?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Trixie Belden series, any of the characters in the books, or anything else you may recognize (i.e. NYU, the Marines). No profit is being made.**

_**Tennessee Dan  
><strong>_**Prologue**

"Sergeant Daniel Mangan, United States Marine Corps Reserve," the tall, dark-haired young man mumbled to himself as he stepped down from the C-130 bringing them back from the war. After four long years, his enlistment was over. He could go to school, not wake up every day thinking, _Today might be it for me, but I've said my goodbyes and I knew what I was signing on for_. Now, he didn't know why he had signed up to be a reservist after his stint was done. He just felt he had to do it. They'd given him options. He could have gone back to New York, but he didn't want to. He wanted a fresh start, new people.

Sure, he still loved the Bob-Whites like family, but even families grow apart. Jim had fast-tracked himself to get his degrees done as quickly as possible, and it felt like he had lost part of himself doing that. Mart and Diana got married the summer after her graduation; Mart was no longer a "fun" buddy- he was a married man, with responsibilities, and now he and Diana were expecting. His old friend wasn't waiting for him at home. Brian, like Jim, immersed himself in his studies, which took him all the way out to California to take advantage of an amazing scholarship he'd earned. Trixie and Honey had abandoned the dream of a Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency. Well, Honey had abandoned the dream, choosing instead to get a Public Relations degree out of left field, angering Trixie. Dan didn't think they'd spoken since July three years ago when Honey finally admitted that she wasn't going to accept the invitation to the Criminal Justice program at NYU. Trixie had strayed from Sleepyside, too. She came home as often as she could, but she was a Criminology major at Georgetown in DC; her childhood dream crushed, she had decided to strive become a criminal profiler and a member of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit.

That just left Dan. Without his tight-knit support group, he became more introspective and realized that the more he was going to overcome his past, the further from New York City he'd have to get. His ties were too heavy and too painful. There were his gang days, and there were his parents. He'd have to stop holding on so tightly if he was to move on. His father had been a Marine pilot, Dan discovered. The next day, he'd gone to the nearest recruiting office and signed up. He had burned all of his acceptance letters underneath a pot of Mr. Maypenny's hunter's stew, packed all of his belongings, and then trudged up to Regan's apartment over the Wheelers' garage, permission forms in hand. His uncle had been uneasy, and it was some task for Dan to get him to sign, but finally Regan relented and signed them. He, too, knew the inexplicable calling of family service. His own father had been an Army Ranger, and had Regan not had a horse accident at sixteen that caused him to fail his physical, he would have joined the Army, too, to feel closer to his dad.

Now, four years later, after surviving boot camp at Parris Island and two tours in the Middle Eastern desert as a sniper, with plenty of scars to show for his work, it was over, and he had to choose where to go. New York was out of the question. Anywhere up North was, really, since it would be too close to home. He could go to Texas, or California, or Montana, or Florida, or Nebraska, or Alaska. He could go anywhere. So _why_ did he choose here?

* * *

><p><p>

Willa Logan took a long look in the full-length mirror that was once her mother's but that now resided in her bedroom. It was early, well before sun-up, and it was the day of her sixteenth birthday. She glanced at the clock to see the time- four in the morning.

_Great, now that Faron Young song is stuck in my head, along with every other song that remotely relates to today._

Willa, for the most part, was satisfied with her appearance. Long blonde hair that normally cascaded far down her back had been pulled up to keep it from her face since the time she had gotten up an hour ago (she had never really been one for sleeping- she had too much else to do!). She wasn't too tall, but what she lacked in height she made up for in spunk, confidence, and sheer determination. Her figure was curvy, but her legs were long and toned. Her arms were strong but not outwardly muscular, and she liked it that way. Willa just wished that her waistline was a bit smaller.

_Oh, well. I'm not ugly, so I might as well be satisfied that I have some semblance of prettiness about me. That's good, right?_

_Yeah, "sweet sixteen and never been kissed". Is that how the saying goes?_

In the light produced from the single bulb in her bedside lamp, she studied her face. Willa had been graced with a strong but not overly prominent brow and forehead. She had her father's high cheekbones, square jaw, "normal" nose, and deep blue eyes. A full, well-proportioned mouth completed the picture.

It was the middle of June, but her farmer's tan was just now becoming a full tan, thanks to her meticulous applications of either high-SPF sunscreen or tan accelerator. She now sported a glowing, golden tan.

_Too bad I won't be getting to show it off. I've got too much to do!_

_Lord, I wish Mama could be here. Daddy tries so hard, but I'm sixteen and helping him raise two younger brothers! My sixteenth birthday should be a celebration of me and a day to share with my family. Instead, I'm baking my own cake. I guess that sixteenth candle today will be a reminder that I survived another year._

Another year of what, exactly, though? Stretching herself seventy ways except the way she wants to go? Trying to save the world? Dealing with life?

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading!<strong>

**More to come!  
>~Dixie <strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anything related to Trixie Belden, I'm using the characters without permission, and I'm not making any profit. Anything else you recognize has also been used without permission.**

**_Tennessee Dan_  
>Chapter One<strong>

Dan had been called to the reserve center. Lord only knew what that meant.

"Yes, sir!" he saluted Lieutenant Carter as he entered the office and stood before the desk.

"At ease, Marine. Mangan, we want you on the crew for the Toys for Tots event on Saturday. I realize this is sudden, and that today is Thursday, but Flannery's wife unexpectedly went into labor nine weeks early and he's not going to be at the field. You'll be taking his place."

"Of course, sir. Anything to help. May I ask to what will I be assigned?"

"You will be part of the general assistance committee. Your job will be to do whatever certain personnel ask of you. Mainly, you will be working with the civilian event coordinator, Willa Logan. A couple of the clubs at her school came up with this Fall Festival idea and she contacted us. Since this is the first go-around with this project, and we've got a high school student at the helm, we're expecting unanticipated circumstances to arise and need a crew ready to deal with it. I guess you could say that you'll be part of a small-scale crisis intervention team. I know that back home you did some charity work and event organization, so I thought you'd be an asset Miss Logan could draw on if necessary." The lieutenant passed a folder over the desk. "Here is all of the information you should get caught up on before you report at or before oh-seven-hundred Saturday. What I'm about to tell you is in there, but just to be thorough, you will sign in at the booth marked USMC at the visitors gate of the football stadium at Rural Hill High School. There's a map in there. It is my understanding that Rural Hill isn't too far from your apartment?"

"You are correct, sir."

"Good. Then if you've no other questions, you are dismissed and I don't expect to see you again until sometime Saturday. Semper Fi."

The men saluted and Dan left the reserve building.

_Thank goodness that they weren't telling me I was going to be deployed again. I've just gotten settled here, just started my degree over at ETSU. I need a chance to find myself here, in the hills of Appalachia. I surely didn't find me out in that desert. Heck, I almost **lost** me out in that desert. A Saturday event with kids? No problem. I'll take the kids over terrorists and jihadists any day! Guess I'd better get home and start brushing up on the months of planning I've missed._

* * *

><p><em>Most people think four A.M. is an ungodly hour at which to awaken on a Saturday morning. Not me. Five's my normal, but I can handle four, no problem. <em>

Today was the day. The big event. Her biggest moment. This could make or break her; in what, she didn't know. Willa just had a feeling that today's outcome would have a profound effect on the rest of her life, and she tended to trust these types of feelings. It was some type of heightened sensitivity or ability or something, she was sure, because she could tell things, and they were always right. Always. It was something of a family trait, converging on both sides to have an amplified occurrence in her. Neither of the boys had displayed signs of having the gift, but then her parents hadn't had _It_; the majority of her mother's siblings and most of her father's family didn't have _It_ either.

Willa walked out on the second story porch in her pajamas. It was two Saturdays before Thanksgiving, and the heat was still hanging on. Setting one hip on the porch rail and leaning her head back against one of the columns, she listened, took a few deep breaths, and gauged the temperature for the rest of the day. Thankfully, she was unable to detect any signs of rain, but the day seemed like it was going to be unseasonably warm. Well, she had her wardrobe questions for the day answered, at least.

Dressing in a pair of denim shorts and a tank top with a light cardigan, she was ready to head to the high school stadium. After packing her dark green skirt and burgundy blouse with the gold accents, along with the skirt's matching blazer and an old tan leather jacket of her father's that had the Marine Corps emblem stamped over the heart in a garment bag, Willa headed downstairs. She picked her black stilettos off the bottom step and dropped them in one of the bags she'd be carrying with her.

On a normal Saturday, she and her father would be cooking a hearty meal in the kitchen. Today, she rummaged through the cabinets without much regard for nutritional value.

_I do that a lot now. Sometimes I don't even eat._ The thoughts came unbidden to her mind, and she willed them to retreat. _This isn't what I need on my mind right now. I need to focus. I have a long day ahead of me today._

Finding nothing of interest in the cabinets, she turned to the fridge. _Success!_ Inside was the coconut cake she had baked two days ago, a small can of cranberry sauce (she was the only one in the house who ate it), and some bacon left over from breakfast yesterday. Pulling the items from the refrigerator and pouring herself a glass of sweet tea, she sat down at the counter on the far side of the sink where she often ate when she ate alone or with only her father. She insisted the boys eat meals at the table. Most people called it a breakfast bar, but to her it was just an outcropping of the counter.

"Unlikely breakfast you've got there, Sugar," a gruff voice sounded from the doorway.

"Sorry, Daddy! I tried not to wake you. I guess I didn't do a very good job. You should try to go back to bed. You had a long week at work and ought to sleep while you can. Why, it's not even five!"

"You didn't get me up. I woke up on my own just a minute ago. I wanted to be able to tell you 'bye 'fore you left for that toy deal, and I see I've caught you. I'm gonna pour myself some cereal. Why you just didn't have any of that is beyond me..." he trailed off, mumbling into the cabinet about which cereal to choose.

"Tough, isn't it? Choosing a cereal when cereal isn't what you want to eat?"

The older man turned around and sent a mock glare her way. Giving up, he pulled a box at random.

Seeing his choice, Willa snickered. Her father just scowled at the box and grabbed the milk from the fridge.

"Frosted Cheerios, really? Nice, Dad. Good one. See, this is why I'm eating coconut cake and cranberry sauce with a side of bacon for breakfast. Beats the heck out of Cheerios. This right here is the breakfast of champions!"

Mildly amused, he replied, "Well, _champ_, I suggest you finish it so you can get a move on."

She was about to pretend to pout when a small tug came on her leg. Looking down, she saw Ricky. Though he was eight, he was small for his age and Willa easily hoisted him to her lap. Looking into his face, she saw tears brimming in his eyes.

"Aw, sugar, what's the matter?"

"I don't want you to leave! You've gotta stay here!"

"Bubby, I'm sorry, but...," she paused, unsure of what to say. Ricky was born with several disabilities, and Willa tried hard to put things in a way he could understand. "You know how, at Christmas, you get all excited when you come into the living room and see all of the presents under the tree?" He nodded, and so she continued. "Well, in lots of places, kids are lucky to even have a living room. Their families can't afford presents for them. They usually have to work to scrape up money even for a tree. What we're going to do today is get presents for these kids so that, when Christmas morning comes, they can get to know the feeling of unwrapping a present. That's why I have to leave. I'm in charge of the event. They need my help to get all those toys collected. Can you understand that?"

"I... I think so." Ricky was quiet for a minute, then said, "Sissy, can I come with you? I get so many presents, I want to help somebody get a present, too. If I could, I'd give them some of my presents, but that would be after Christmas. So I want to help. Can I, please?"

His sincere question, spoken with a child's absence of guile, brought tears to her eyes. "Don't cry, Sissy," he said, reaching up with his tiny fingers to wipe away the tears from the corners of her eyes. Willa hugged him close and said, "Yes, baby, you can come with me. You're so tiny, but your heart is so big. I love you. Don't you forget that, y'hear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now go put some clothes on. Jeans and one of your collared shirts with a couple of buttons at the neck. Tennis shoes. I'll grab you some layers in case it gets chilly. You can eat some Cheerios in the car on the way over. Do you want milk or juice in your cup?"

"Apple juice, please. Thank you!"

Willa tousled his hair, and he ran off to do as instructed. She quickly finished her food, then set to work gathering the last-minute supplies the new addition to her crew warranted. Briefly, she wondered if she should wake Craig and invite him along. He'd already declined previous invitations, but it might not hurt to try one last time. She then vetoed the idea. On Saturdays, he rarely awoke before eleven, usually not before noon. Craig would be useless as a helper if awakened before he was ready. He'd be attending later with friends. That'd be good enough for now.

Willa filled Ricky's car cup with apple juice and filled her own refillable cup with a screw-on lid with more sweet tea. She swore she wasn't addicted to the stuff, but deep down, she knew better. She needed her tea. She was also obsessed with those cups. They were just so cute and practical!

She put two different kinds of Cheerios into plastic baggies for Ricky- some for breakfast, and some for snacks later. Then, she traded out her small cooler for a larger one to accommodate enough Cokes for herself and her brother. Tossing a couple of extra granola bars, Debbie cakes, and a handful of Fruit Roll-Ups and other gummy, fruity treats into her snack bag, she hollered for Ricky.

He came scooting around the corner, grinning from ear to ear. Willa was glad to see him so happy to be helping others in need. Turning to her father, she said, "Daddy, do you think I could take your truck today in case I need to haul something or something like that?"

He pretended to deliberate, then said, "Sure. Get the keys off my dresser."

Willa left and came back, keys in hand, then asked, "Do you want mine so you can use my car if you want?"

"Sugar, I can't fit my legs in that tiny contraption of yours if I try! Thank you, but we have other vehicles I can drive."

"Yay! Truck!" Ricky exclaimed as he ran for one of the piles of bags and attempted to pick up a big blue and green duffle.

"Ricky, honey, try this one," Willa said, handing him her vinyl, doubled-over garment bag. "Just set it in the passenger's seat, and try not to let it drag the ground, please." Beaming at having been assigned a task, the boy hurried to make short, but careful, work of it.

She continued to feed him the small bags, and the truck was soon loaded. "Ricky, buckle yourself in, but leave your door open. I need to go grab my shoes and then we'll be ready to go."

Willa ran into the house, grabbed a pair of black sandals, and ran back out the door, glancing at her watch. It was just before five twenty. That meant that she'd be at the field and have a few minutes to collect her thoughts before the early crew came in to unlock everything and set up the sign-in tables at six. As she slid behind the wheel, her phone rang. Looking at the display, she saw that it was Mack, her somewhat-boyfriend. She let it go to voicemail, then sent him a text saying, "Sorry I missed your call. I'm on my way to the field. Talk to you later :)".

"Who was that?"

"Mack, honey. Now, here's my phone. If it rings, tell me who's calling, but don't answer it. If it pops up with a message, tell me who it is, but don't open it, please. You may play on it if you like."

They were almost to the end of the gravel drive when the phone rang. "It says 'Casey'."

She stopped the truck and took the phone. "Case. Hi. Sorry I'm running a bit behind schedule. Is there a problem?"

Casey Morgan was one of Willa's closest friends; she sometimes regarded him as her only true friend because he was the only person that had never given up on her through all of the drama in her life. He was also her right-hand man on this project.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Note:<span> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.**

**More to come!  
>~Dixie <strong>


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Trixie Belden or anything else in this work of fanfiction. I am making no profit.**

**Chapter Two**

"Sir, I understand that my name is not on the list. I'm afraid you have the _old_ list. I was only added Thursday. A corporal named Gregory Flannery should be on the list you have in your hand. His wife went into labor on Thursday and they called me to fill his place. My military ID is in order and my presence here should not be a problem, even if I am not on the list!" Though not a redhead, Dan had a true Irish temper, and though he was trying to keep it together, he felt like his patience would be shot at any moment.

Just then, a green Ford pick-up truck pulled up near the main gate. Dan's mood immediately softened. A pretty, petite blonde dropped down from the driver's side, opened the back door, and came across the grass with a small boy in tow. After taking a moment to admire the woman, who he guessed to be in her early twenties, he turned his attention back to the teen at the gate.

Before he could say anything, the boy he'd been talking to called out to the blonde. "Wil, hey! Over here. I know that I called you about some other problems, but here's one, too. This man says that he needs to be let in as part of event staff, but he ain't on the list." Turning to Dan, the boy continued, "This here's-"

"Willa Logan, the event coordinator," Dan finished for him smoothly. "Sergeant Daniel Mangan, ma'am. I was the last-minute switch to the general assistance committee, replacing Corporal Flannery."

Willa accepted his proffered hand and shook it. Her handshake was firm. "You are correct. I'm Willa. I remember your name. You got here early! I'm sorry for the confusion. I didn't receive the modified personnel list until late last night. I intended to give everyone the right one when I got here, but I hadn't anticipated such an early bird! Why, it's not even six and you're here. I thought I had told Lieutenant Carter that y'all didn't need to report until seven!"

"You did, ma'am. At least, that's when he told me to be here by. I woke up early from an alarm clock malfunction and decided that I'd come on ahead. The worst that could happen would be that I'd have to wait in my truck or leave and come back, right?" Dan flashed her his best "aw, shucks" grin, and thought it was a good sign that she had chuckled.

The small boy delicately tapped on her leg. When she glanced down at him, he said, "Sissy, your phone's ringing! It says it's Mack. What should I do?"

"Answer it, baby. Tell him I'm in the middle of things and will call him once all crises have been averted. Talk to him for a bit."

Everyone chuckled as they heard Ricky try to relay Willa's message. "It's me, Ricky. Willa had me answer her phone so I could tell you that um... she's... kinda busy and... uh... gonna call you when she's done... how'd she put it?... with the 'crimies bein' 'vernid', whatever that means. Yeah, I think that's it. Oh! And she said to talk to me!" His conversation trailed off as he walked away from the gate. Willa hollered after him, "Sugar, don't go too far! Keep me in sight!" He turned around long enough to flash her a grin and a thumbs-up, then continued speaking into the cell phone.

"Where were we? Ah, introductions. I take it you've met Casey Morgan, my, what would I call you for this project, Casey?"

"Loyal servant?" he joked.

"Gracious, no!"

"How about 'Chief Lackey'? 'Head Helper'? 'Main Minion'?"

"Does 'Executive Assistant' work for you?"

"I guess," he pretended to pout.

Willa resumed speaking to Dan. "My executive assistant, then. He doesn't mean any harm. He's just invested so much effort into this project that he gets a bit... let's say touchy... when complications arise."

Casey was quick to apologize himself and defend his friend's contribution. "I am sorry. Willa is right that I'm a bit on edge. I just want this to go off without a hitch, and after the issues that came up earlier, I've been snappy. But my effort? Heh, it's nothing compared to everything she's put into this thing! I'd be willing to bet that ninety-five percent of the planning was single-handedly completed by her."

"We could stand here and debate who did how much until the cows come home. That ain't going to resolve anything. Let's just let it rest that everyone's help is appreciated and a vital part of this coming together. It's my fault that this mishap occurred; I should have gotten the list out sooner. But this problem is solved now. I've got too much other stuff on my plate to stand around talking, though I'd like to." Willa pulled a folder from the large bag she had slung on her left hip. "Casey, here's the most up-to-date info I have for you. Here," she pulled out two more folders, "in the blue folder are the general welcome and refresher sheets to be handed out to all event staff. The ones on the left go to Marines, the ones on the right go to our crew. They're labeled, too. The purple folder has Kathy Mickleson's assignment inside. I'd appreciate if you'd get it to her as she comes in. Once she gets here, call me or come find me, please."

Willa turned to Dan. "If you'd come with me, one of our first problems to resolve is that the people who were bringing and setting up the sign-in tables turned into _a _person dropping off a trailer with the tables on it. I don't even know if they sent enough. We need to get them over here and set up so that I can call and get more if we need them. Does that suit?"

"You're in charge, Miss Logan," was his reply, though his serious tone was belied by the mischievous glint in his eye.

"Why, thank you, but it's really not necessary to fall on decorum right now. 'Willa' is just fine. How would you prefer I address you?"

"Most people tend to call me Dan or Mangan."

"Creative," she joked.

* * *

><p><p>

The two quickly had the trailer unloaded, and Willa realized that they were at least two tables short. Reaching for her phone and freaking out momentarily when her hand did not encounter it, she laughed at herself. Ricky still had it!

As if on cue, the boy came out of seemingly nowhere and held out the phone. "It's Mack again. After he hung up on me, he kept calling back. Says he won't stop until you talk to him."

She noticed that he had said, "hung up on me", but attributed that to his usual way of jumbling his words. The incessant calls were another matter.

Taking the phone, Willa barked, "Mack, this is no time for your obsessive calling! This event is very important for a lot of families' Christmases." She took a few steps away to continue her conversation, while Ricky and Dan stayed back.

Dan crouched down to speak. "Hey, buddy. I'm Dan Mangan. Are you Willa's little brother?"

"Can I see an ID?"

Inwardly, Dan both chuckled at and applauded the boy's question. Someone had taught him well. Pulling out his military ID, he handed it to him. After a moment's examination, Ricky handed it back with a small salute and a "Semper Fi!"

"Thank you." Dan saluted back, then extended his hand for the boy to shake.

Ricky took it. "Richard Logan. Most folks call me Ricky. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sergeant Mangan."

"Just Dan. Are you helping your sister out today?"

"Sure am!" Ricky replied, beaming with pride. "For now, I'm just feelin' her calls, but later I might get to help with liftin' things and runnin' stuff and all. Who knows? Are you helping, too?"

"I am. We just moved those tables over there. She was going to call for some more when that call that you fielded came in." Dan didn't spend the later part of his teenage years around Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler without discovering a few sneaky investigation/interrogation tricks. He felt a bit bad using them on such a small kid, but he needed info from somewhere to figure out if this Mack guy was a security threat or not.

"Oh. That was Mack. He's kind of her boyfriend." _Kind of_ reminded Dan of a redhead and a blonde he used to know.

"How's that?"

"Nobody knows for sure. Daddy won't let Wil date, but Mack doesn't want her to be good friends with any other guys, so they 'kind of' go out. She doesn't know that Mack is so jealous, though. They do group stuff together, but Wil don't let him kiss her. He's in college now, but I don't think he's very smart. He's not very nice either. He pretends to be nice when she's around, but when she leaves, it's different. And whenever Daddy and Craig, Craig's my brother, are there, he has manners, but if they ain't, then he bosses her around and makes her fetch stuff for him. He thinks I'm too little, and he treats me like I'm stupid 'cause of my dis-bilities and stuff, so he can't tell that I can tell that he's being mean. I'm not telling on him 'cause I don't want to upset Sissy, but it hurts to see him treat her like he does."

"Talking to you, I can't tell you have a disability. He should be ashamed of treating you that way."

"Oh, Willie does lots of work with me to help me with that. We play with animals and sing songs to trees and stuff. She told me that I have 'stunted growth' and 'ought-is', I think is what she called it. She never told me where I caught it from. She just says 'it ain't a catchin' disease, honey, and it's nothing to be ashamed of or worried 'bout' and keeps on doing whatever it was she was doing before. I used to have a speaking problem, too- the words came out funny. But she helped me fix that, too. My sister's real good at fixing things."

"Seems like it, if she got this job working for this event."

"She ain't working! She volunteered all her time for this. She ain't getting paid anything. She did lots of fun-raising for this, but didn't keep none of the money. She didn't ask nobody to give her anything. Everything anybody gave her went straight to this."

"Seems to me like you are very good at taking care of your sister."

"Why, thank you. I like to think that I am."

Before their conversation could continue, a tall, lanky boy of seventeen or eighteen strolled up. "Hey, Logan Two. How are ya?" He extended his fist for a special handshake and Ricky reciprocated. Once the handshake was finished, Ricky said, "Hey Sawyer. I'm doing fine, but you kinda innerapp-ed a conservation."

"Sorry, buddy." Turning to Dan, he introduced himself. "Sawyer Jameson, part of the high school's volunteer crew. I apologize for interrupting."

"No problem. Dan Mangan, Marine." The two shook hands.

"I hate to run, but I need to go find Willa," Sawyer said. As he turned to walk away, Willa came walking up. In addition to Casey, Sawyer was another friend, though Willa hadn't known him nearly as long as she had Casey. He had yet to be there through nearly as much of the insanity that was her life, and she didn't know if he'd be able to tough it or not.

Willa's expression was both crestfallen and livid at the same time- two emotions one doesn't normally see together at once. She looked like tears were about to spill from her eyes. In a moment, Sawyer had her wrapped in a bear hug. After a moment, she pulled back. "Goodness how I hate him! How dare he! How DARE he!" she raged. Before she could continue to clue anyone in as to what was the problem, her phone rang again. Looking at the display, she mumbled, "DANG him!", and just stared at it. Sawyer glanced at it and saw that it was from Mack.

None of her friends, especially Sawyer and Casey, liked Mack. They thought he was too overbearing, mean, and rude to Willa. Nobody knew what she saw in him. Sawyer gently took the phone from her hand and answered it. Ricky moved over to stand by his sister and hold her hand in the understanding, intuitive way only a child can.

"Mack, I don't know what you think you are doing making her so upset, but you ought to be ashamed! I have never seen her like this. I don't want you calling her again, got me?... You know pretty darn well who this is! She looks like she's gonna cry and wring your neck at the same time, so I'd leave her alone if I was you! Back off! I don't want to see you around here today, but it ain't like your sorry butt volunteered to help! You ain't got no business over here anyways. If I see you, I'll have you personally escorted out, and don't forget that there's a slew of Marines here today to help me if need be!"

From below, Ricky's two cents were barely audible on Mack's end: "Don't you dare hurt my sissy!"

Sawyer disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Willa. "If he calls again, don't you answer it! Let it ring, or decline it, or hand it off to Morg or me. But don't answer it. For your sake, as well as the event's."

"You're right. I need to keep it together for the event. Tonight I can deal with the rest of this. Just..." her voice trailed off, and Sawyer gave her another hug.

"Thanks, I needed that." Her face changed into an expression of bright cheerfulness. "Okay. Back to work, then. Let's see, it's quarter 'til seven now. The festival begins at eleven. Sawyer, I need you to go wait by the Marine sign-in table. As the transpo crew gets in, I'm going to need you to direct them toward where the toy deliveries are going to be. The last location I was told was the baseball complex. Coach Henry should be over there. If he isn't, call me. I'm shooting to be over there before the first truck comes in. I need to get more tables. Do you think your dad would be able to bring us some from y'all's church?"

"Pretty sure. Do you want to call him, or do you want me to?"

"I can, if you don't think it's too early."

"Nah. If he's grouchy, tell him I told you to call. That'll get him off your case."

Willa opened her mouth to argue, but he had already started to walk away. She then focused her gaze on Dan. "Sorry about that. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. Thanks for your help with the tables. I think Mr. Jameson can help me unload more when he gets here. If you would, please find a tall, dark-haired man with a scruffy beard. He's Coach Philips; he can let you into the school and direct you to the copiers. I need you to make twenty copies of both pages that are in there. Enough paper is in the folder. He might make the copies if you ask him." She pulled yet another file from her seemingly bottomless, or sideless, bag. "It's the final arrangement for the 'fairgrounds'. I had to shuffle a couple of things around at the last minute. Which has also screwed up the schedule. So I need to make a new one. I'm sorry that you're having to be a gofer."

"Just here to help, ma'am."

"Well, I thank you. And I'm sure that all of the kids that we are making Christmas for do, too."

Dan felt that he should tip his hat, but as he wasn't wearing one, he just walked off to do as she had asked.

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
